


Crossing The Line

by flawedamythyst



Series: Lines [2]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Auror Clint Barton, Evil Alexander Pierce, M/M, Necromancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23397172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Three years after Clint last saw Bucky, it's finally time to rescue him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Lines [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682974
Comments: 46
Kudos: 259
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo





	Crossing The Line

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Winterhawk Bingo square of 'Harry Potter AU'.

The old manor house had looked abandoned until they’d breeched the outer wards. Well, until Tony had breached the wards, sweet-talking them into letting the whole team slip through without setting off any alarms. He’d been studying them for over a month to work out how to do that without just forcing them open or bringing them crashing down, because if the Avengers didn’t keep their arrival quiet, they’d never make it to the crypt.

And they had to make it to the crypt. Clint wasn’t having it any other way.

As Clint stepped through the hole in the wards, the house went from being a dark, slumped ruin with broken windows and a hole in the roof to being perfectly sound, with lights on in a couple of upstairs rooms.

“Okay,” whispered Clint as the Avengers all crouched behind a series of ornamental hedges. Maybe it wasn’t the best name for an underground anti-terrorist group, but Clint had been spitting mad with anger at Pierce when he’d come up with it, and no one had really complained. 

Well, except Natasha, but she’d been gone a long time now. Clint could barely remember the exact note of exhausted disdain she’d used when she’d said it.

“Everyone remember the plan?” he asked.

“Not really,” said Scott. “We’ve only gone over it five hundred times, and been planning this for the best part of a year.”

Clint glared at him, then around at the others, all of them clutching their wands.

“We’ve got this,” said Wanda quietly and Clint gave her a nod, then turned back to the house.

“Time to go, then,” he said, taking a deep breath. He moved towards the front door, keeping bent low and using what cover there was. Bruce and Wanda followed him, while Tony headed in the opposite direction with Scott and Sam behind him, going around to find the back door.

Clint’s skin was prickling with anticipation. It had been three long years since he’d stood on a balcony at Hogwarts and sworn to Bucky that he was going to free him, three years of hard work and subterfuge, working in secret against Pierce and slowly sounding out just how far his web extended. Three years of giving up his dreams of being a Quidditch star and becoming an Auror instead, of working all day to take down criminals, then meeting up with these guys in the evenings to do the same thing. It all came down to this.

Fuck, Clint couldn’t wait to see Bucky again.

They reached the front door and he paused, letting Wanda press her hands to the wards around it. She had a weird sixth sense when it came to magic and was able to feel it with her hands, to a certain extent. Well enough, certainly, to be able to tell when Tony had done his little trick again, disrupting the wards on the house itself just long enough for them to open the door and slip inside.

The lights were off in the hallway, although Clint could see a couple were on upstairs, giving enough light to see by. The house seemed quiet, which hopefully meant Pierce and the handful of his minions that they knew were there were all on the other side of the house

There was an enormous tapestry over the stairs of a Hydra, looming over them with blood-stained fangs in every one of its many heads. Clint glanced up at it and winced, then looked back at the others. He didn’t risk speaking, just nodded at them and started to move further into the house, wand out and his ears straining for any sound. 

Before they’d started the night’s infiltration, Tony had increased the spell on Clint’s hearing aids so that they amplified sounds better. It came with the disadvantage of losing clarity, but after a few of the Avengers’ other missions, creeping into less important Hydra hide-outs for information or even on the few rare occasions they’d risked an overtly offensive move, Clint knew he’d rather hear something, even if he couldn’t tell what it was.

This was by far the most important mission they’d ever been on. The one the others had all been setting them up for. 

This house had once belonged to an old wizarding family, the Schmidts, who had backed Grindalwald and all ended up dead, cursed, or in Azkaban after his fall. Since then, it had appeared abandoned and slowly falling slowly into disrepair. In reality, Pierce had been using it as a hub for his underground movement, Hydra, since the last Schmidt had been killed by Aurors. Layered under wards, illusions, and other complex spells, it had taken the Avengers a lot just to find it, and even more to be able to access it on a night when they knew it wouldn’t be crawling with Pierce’s minions.

Pierce was here, of course, they couldn’t avoid that. Pierce had a flat near Diagon Alley that was officially his residence, but the Avengers had known for over two years that every night he went inside and then apparated away. They’d figured that wherever he went to was where he was planning his next moves and keeping his dark secrets.

His secrets like Bucky’s body, bound up with necromantic magic while his spirit was forced into doing Pierce’s bidding.

There had been more than a few times when Clint had thought they’d never manage to find out where that was, but now they’d finally not just found it, but managed to get inside. Tonight, they were going to find Bucky and stop Pierce for good. Clint wasn’t letting anything else happen.

The blueprints they’d found buried in a dusty Muggle archive had shown a small chapel on the side of the house, with an old family crypt beneath it. That was where Clint’s team were headed.

Even after three years, they hadn’t been able to pull together much information about shadowghasts, let alone anything really useful like how they were made or, ideally, how they could be brought back to life. What little they’d found had made it clear that the spell needed to pull the spirit right to the brink of death before trapping them, using as many necromantic elements to thin the veil as much as possible. It had made sense that Pierce would have done the ritual in a crypt and kept Bucky’s body trapped there, next to the mouldering skeletons of generations of Schmidts.

The blueprints had been out-of-date, but it didn’t seem like a lot had changed in the house’s basic layout. They moved down the hallway until they reached a door that Clint was pretty sure would take them in the right direction. He reached out a hand to turn the knob, but Wanda grabbed his arm, pulling his fingers away before they could graze the brass.

“Cursed!” she hissed, and Clint made a face, looking down at the perfectly innocent-looking knob. Who the hell cursed doors inside their own house?

He lifted his wand, but any counter-curse he tried was bound to make a noise, and they needed to be as quiet as possible.

Clint glanced at Wanda to see if she had any ideas, and she shrugged helplessly. Damn, he really didn’t want to have to go the only other way to the chapel, because that involved going upstairs and through the house to a small balcony inside the chapel, overlooking the altar, that they’d have to climb down from. Upstairs was where Hydra would be; it was far too risky.

He suddenly missed having Natasha beside him, because she had a subtle way with curses that meant she could unravel them with a couple of wand movements, slipping in around the edges of the spell to take them down.

That was stupid. Natasha wasn’t with them any more for a damn good reason, and they didn’t need her anyway. Clint didn’t need her with him to rescue Bucky, he could manage just fine with the team he had.

Bruce tapped Clint’s shoulder and gestured him out of the way, then stared down at the handle for a moment.

“Bruce!” hissed Clint, realising what he was planning, but Bruce ignored him, reaching out and grasping the handle firmly.

Clint saw the moment the curse hit, because Bruce’s whole body stiffened up and his eyes widened. A wash of green travelled over his skin, but it faded almost as quickly as it had appeared, sliding off like water. As soon as Bruce had turned the knob and pushed the door open he bent over, gasping for breath, but he didn’t look harmed at all.

“Okay?” asked Clint in a whisper. Bruce flashed an okay sign at him.

“That was way too risky,” said Wanda. 

Bruce straightened up and gave her a sardonic smile, then gestured at the open door. “Not for me.”

Bruce hadn’t revealed his heritage to them until nearly a year after they’d formed their secret organisation to take down Pierce. He’d just casually slipped it into conversation on one of the rare evenings that they’d been relaxing with a drink rather than plotting their next move.

Someone had made a comment about Bruce’s tendency to break things when he lost his temper, and he’d just shrugged. “Yeah, I get it from my dad,” he said. “He was a giant.”

There had been complete silence for a minute while they all stared at him in surprise, and he’d added, “That’s also why I can take a stunner and just shake it off.”

Since then, he’d taken to protecting the others from curses he’d known he’d be able to weather better, but it wasn’t fool-proof. Not every curse got turned aside by his giant genes, and there was no way he could have known that he could have handled the one on the door.

Clint wasn’t going to start an argument here though, so he just glared at him and took care to go first, to give Bruce a chance to shake off whatever the curse had been.

The next room was mostly filled with an enormous round table, carved with the same hydra as the tapestry, so that a different tentacle reached out to every seat. Clint eyed it warily as they passed by. If Pierce had laid curses on his doors, fuck knew what he’d done to the table.

The door to the chapel was obvious from the carved stone arch etched with a cross that stood above it. The door itself was heavy oak, studded with nails. Clint eyed it for a moment, then glanced at Wanda.

She held her hand out, then gave a nod. “It’s safe,” she hissed.

Clint took a breath and reached out for the handle, trying not to flinch back from it. He was meant to be the leader, after all, he needed to at least fake some courage.

Besides, the only way to get to Bucky was through that door.

Nothing happened, rather anticlimactically, so Clint eased the door open and they darted inside.

The chapel had obviously not been used in decades. There was no furniture inside other than the heavy stone altar, which was bare except for a layer of dust. The balcony above it was shrouded by a heavy red curtain, but that was the only splash of colour in the place. The walls were all just bare stone, and the door they’d come in through was the only one.

There wasn’t a single clue how to get down into the crypt.

“Fuck,” said Clint, looking around again in case he’d missed a trapdoor or a flight of stairs down or a flashing sign saying ‘Crypt This Way!’

Wanda glanced at her wand. “Ten minutes,” she said, and Clint winced.

“It has to be here,” he said. “Spread out, check everything.”

But they only managed a step or two into the chapel before there was the sound of a door opening, and the curtain around the balcony wafted in a draught.

Shit.

They all moved fast to the one place where they wouldn’t be seen from the balcony: right under it, behind the altar.

“Fucking hell,” said a tired voice. “That bitch, seriously.”

“Yeah, I know,” said another voice, and that one Clint recognised. Rumlow. Chief Auror, technically Clint’s boss, and a complete piece of work. They’d known for a couple of years that he was one of Pierce’s lackeys, which was why they hadn’t been able to make their secret crusade into an official investigation. They needed to bring Rumlow and Pierce down at the same time, or they’d be able to protect each other. 

“Why do you think I brought you here?” added Rumlow. “I’m not sitting through whatever bullshit she’s got planned.”

There was the sound of a match, and then the faint smell of cigarettes floated down. Clint’s eyes widened. He might not be religious and it was pretty clear this place hadn’t been used as a chapel for years, but smoking in it still felt like a dick move.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before,” said the first voice, and footsteps sounded on stone. “Why the hell does a chapel need a balcony?”

“No idea,” said Rumlow. “Not enough room for a choir, so maybe a minstrel? Doesn’t matter, the point is that if you’ve never been here and wouldn’t know your way to it, then she’s not going to find us. We can have a proper talk about her, with no one listening in.”

“Ah,” said the first voice. “I see. You want your position at Pierce’s right hand back.”

“Fuck off, Rollins,” said Rumlow, and Clint was able to put a face to the first voice. Rollins worked in the Department of Mysteries, and always had a smirk on his face that should have been the first clue he was part of an evil conspiracy. “I’m still at his right hand. I just don’t want her thinking she can sniff around and get in my way. Honestly, what are we even doing tonight? A special meeting with just the top guys? It should be a full meeting so we can make sure everyone understands their place.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Rollins. “It was Pierce’s decision, though.”

Rumlow made a rude noise. “Pierce is letting himself be manipulated.”

Wanda looked at her watch again. Clint tried to restrain his frustration, but would these guys just fuck off already? He had a perfectly finessed plan to get back to.

“Careful,” said Rollins in a warning tone. “I won’t hear disrespect.”

“Of course not,” said Rumlow. “Pierce is doing nothing wrong. It’s all her. She doesn’t understand what this organisation is truly trying to achieve.”

Clint gestured at Wanda to show him her watch, and winced when he saw it.

The plan had been to get down into the crypt and find Bucky as soon as possible. They had no real idea what state he’d be in, or how to break the curse on him, but Wanda had been hopeful that she’d be able to feel it out, at least enough to try something. The thing with breaking a curse, though, was that it usually created a lot of noise. The last thing they’d wanted was for Pierce and his agents to turn up and trap them in the crypt while they were still trying to get Bucky free.

So, Tony and his gang had gone to the opposite side of the house and at the pre-arranged time were going to create a huge disturbance, something Tony excelled at. The hope was that everyone in the house would be drawn to them while Clint’s team got Bucky out and free, and then they’d all escape together.

If they weren’t in the crypt when Tony’s distraction happened, they’d run the risk of not having enough time to get Bucky out and escape.

And Clint wasn’t leaving Bucky here. Not after three fucking years of work to get here.

“Hydra deserves better leaders than her,” added Rumlow. “Hail Hydra!”

“Hail Hydra!” repeated Rollins, and Clint wondered if they knew how stupid it made them sound. “What’s your plan?”

Rumlow laughed. “I know you’d see it my way. What I’m thinking is…” his voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur and Clint lost the words, not that it was any great loss. The petty in-fighting of Hydra agents wasn’t going to matter much once they got Bucky free of danger and took everything they had on the organisation to the Minister of Magic and, in case he didn’t take it seriously enough, the Daily Prophet.

They just had to get Bucky away first, so that Pierce couldn’t use him as either a weapon or a hostage.

Wanda was looking down at her watch again, shaking her head. She looked up at Clint and gave him a helpless shrug, and Clint sighed. 

A second later, there was an almighty explosion from the other end of the house, followed by a series of smaller explosions and then a rumbling crash, as if a whole wall had fallen down. Tony had done them all proud.

Clint had a split-second of thinking that at least the distraction would work at getting Rumlow and Rollins out of the way so they could get back to finding the crypt, then Rumlow came leaping over the balcony to land on the altar, wand in hand. Clint froze in place and felt Wanda and Bruce go still beside him, but Rumlow’s back was to them and he sprinted across the chapel to the door without looking back.

Except Rollins didn’t follow.

“Jesus fuck, you crazy bastard,” he swore instead, still up on the balcony.

“Come on!” shouted Rumlow, his hand throwing open the chapel door as he glanced back at Rollins.

And saw Clint, Wanda and Bruce, all lined up like idiots.

His eyes widened and he spat out a swear word. A moment later he sent a curse at them, flicking his wand viciously in their direction. They scattered just in time and Clint sent a desperate “ _Stupefy!_ ” at him that he dodged.

Rollins shouted something Clint didn’t catch and came jumping down onto the altar to join the fight, but not before a ghostly white weasel had darted past them all, heading for the door.

Damnit, he’d sent a patronus, no doubt with a message that there were infiltrators here as well as where Tony’s distraction had been designed to gather all the Hydra agents. Clint could feel their chance to rescue Bucky slipping further and further through his fingers.

“ _Petrificus Totalus_!” he shouted desperately, sending it at Rollins, who jumped backwards off the altar to avoid it, stumbling as he landed just long enough to be hit by Wanda’s follow up stunner.

The red burst hit Rollins right in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground unconscious. Clint turned back to Rumlow, who was exchanging lightning fast curses with Bruce, making it clear why he’d climbed the ranks of the Aurors so quickly. Clint sent another stunner at him, but it just glanced off his shield spell.

Rumlow was just one person though, no matter how good his duelling was. There were three Avengers in the room, they could still subdue him in time to find the crypt and get to Bucky, they just had to-

One of Rumlow’s stunners hit Bruce, sending him stumbling backwards even if it hadn’t knock him out, and then, shit. Pierce swept into the room, wand out, followed by a handful of black-robed figures.

Damnit, not nearly as many of them had gone after the diversion as Clint had hoped.

He found his eyes unwillingly drawn to the short, red-headed witch standing at Pierce’s shoulder. Natasha. She’d been a member of Hydra for a couple of years, taking to the subterfuge and manipulations like a duck to water while Clint could only watch from a distance and remember the warm-hearted best friend he’d found hidden under her shell when they were back at school.

It was a long time since he’d seen any sign of that Natasha, though. She’d risen to be one of Pierce’s inner circle, taking part in every aspect of Hydra’s work and privy to all of Pierce’s darkest secrets.

Natasha just stared back at Clint for a long, cool moment, then glanced at Pierce, clearly waiting for orders.

“You must be the idiots trying to stop the glorious rise of Hydra,” said Pierce, with a wide smirk. “Pathetic. I’m going to enjoy this.” 

He raised his wand and Clint threw himself to one side as a blasting curse exploded against the stone wall, shards of rock flying everywhere.

Oh god. He’d failed Bucky. There was no way he was going to be able to rescue him now, not when even getting himself and his friends out alive was looking like it would take a miracle.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” he muttered as another curse went flying overhead. He could hear Wanda shouting out one of her Romani spells and he took a deep breath, preparing to move so he could back her up.

And then a figure appeared in front of him, a figure in a Hufflepuff uniform that Clint could see the chapel wall through. “Hey, doll,” said Bucky.

“Oh fuck,” said Clint, staring at him. He hadn’t seen Bucky since his last day at Hogwarts, when he had sworn to free him from Pierce and they’d shared a single, ghostly kiss. A kiss he had really been counting on having a repeat of, but it was beginning to look like he’d completely fucked up any chance of that. “Fuck, Bucky, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, we don’t have time for that,” said Bucky. “Listen, I’m right beneath you.”

Clint nodded. “The crypt, I know,” he said. “But we couldn’t find the entrance.”

“You’re leaning on it,” said Bucky, and made a motion as if to push the altar, his hands sliding inside the stone instead. “Just got to give it some force.”

“Oh shit, what’s this?” asked an unwelcome voice, and Clint looked up to see that Rumlow had come around the altar while he’d been distracted. He had his wand out, and Clint suddenly realised that he couldn’t hear the sounds of fighting any more. “Ghost boy thinks he’s got friends.”

Bucky stared at him in horror, glanced back at Clint for a moment, then flickered and disappeared.

Rumlow snorted and raised his wand. “Don’t worry, Barton, I’ll make sure your bones get stacked nice and close to his prison, so you get to stay with him for eternity.”

Clint fumbled for his wand but it was too late, Rumlow was already inhaling and starting to speak, “Avada K-”

The stunner hit him right in the head, sending him flying into the wall. Clint jumped to his feet to find Natasha standing with her wand still raised.

“Took you long enough,” he said. 

The plan had been for her to maintain her cover during the raid, but now it had all gone horribly wrong they needed all the back up they could get. Losing their spy on the inside would be a blow if they got out of this alive, but they needed to actually get out alive before they started worrying about that.

She gave him a swift eye roll before turning and sending fast curses at the two Hydra agents who were standing over Bruce and Wanda, taking them out before they’d realised that she’d changed sides. Bruce let out a roar and just ran at the one Hydra agent left, knocking him into the wall with a crash that knocked him out.

“Romanov,” said Pierce, now the only member of Hydra still standing. “You disappoint me.”

Natasha smiled. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a while.”

Pierce’s glare deepened. “You will not win this.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “It looks like we already have,” he said, and bent to push at the altar, putting his full strength into it as it slowly shifted forward, stone grinding against stone. Underneath was a dark hole leading to a flight of stone steps, and Clint grinned up at Pierce. “And we’re going to leave with what we came for.” 

“Ah,” said Pierce very slowly. “My assassin. Is that what this is about? Because I have him very firmly in hand, you won’t prise him from me.” He smiled, and it was a thin, cruel smile. “In fact, perhaps he should be the one to show you just how completely he belongs to me.”

He reached into his robe and Natasha sent a rapid stunner at him, but it glanced off Pierce’s shield spell. Fuck, it didn’t even look as if he was having to work to maintain that, how the hell were they going to take him down?

Pierce pulled an old-fashioned handheld mirror out of his robe, which was not what Clint had been expecting.

“I call you,” he said into it, ignoring the curse from Wanda reflecting off his shield spell.

A moment later, Bucky was beside Pierce. He was so pale that Clint couldn’t make out the Hufflepuff colours on his tie. Only the dark pits of his eyes stood out.

“I need you to take care of this little problem,” said Pierce, still smirking at Clint. “Stop all their hearts. Start with him.” He pointed at Clint and Bucky’s head turned towards him, a look of despair crossing his face.

All he said was, “I comply,” and then he was walking towards Clint with slow, firm steps across the chapel floor.

Clint didn’t waste time staring at him. He ducked into the hole under the altar and ran down the steps into the crypt, hoping like hell that he wasn’t just running into a dead end where the boy he loved would crush his heart.

Behind him he heard Natasha’s rapid footsteps, but he didn’t bother glancing back at her.

The bottom of the steps opened out into a vast, stone-vaulted space that must have run under the whole of that wing of the house. Memorial plaques and large stone sarcophagi were set in the walls, but they’d all been broken up. Clint didn’t stop to look at the shattered lids, he darted for the gleam of light he could see ahead, past the row of columns.

He stopped dead when the source of it came into sight. 

Bucky’s body was lying in a glass coffin bound with brass that was etched with so many sigils it glowed silver. It was propped up on end so that it looked like Bucky was standing in it, leaning back on a pile of coffins, and the ground around the base was piled so high with bones that they hid Bucky’s legs up to the knees. It looked like they’d raided every coffin there, pulled the skeletons apart and dumped them in a heap at the base of Bucky’s prison. 

Facing Bucky was a full-length mirror, but it wasn’t reflecting the scene. Instead, it was like staring at a frozen-over pond at midnight, nothing but black ice sucking light in. Around the whole arrangement was a ring of tall, thick candles, flaming high enough for Clint to see it all clearly.

Fuck. This was where Bucky’s body had been for so many years? For decades? No wonder he had sometimes seemed a little grim.

“Don’t stop!” hissed Natasha, grabbing Clint’s hand and pulling him further into the crypt. Clint glanced over his shoulder and saw Bucky coming down the stairs with steady, implacable steps.

Shit, right. He didn’t just need to save Bucky right now, he needed to save himself, and all his friends as well.

He crossed the ring of candles, half-expecting to be stopped by a barrier, but there didn’t seem to be any wards around Bucky. Presumably Pierce had thought he was safe enough, tucked down here where no one could find him.

“Bucky!” shouted Clint, kicking aside some of the bones so he could get close to the coffin. It was probably horribly disrespectful, and just because Schmidt had been a bastard didn’t mean his ancestors had been, but Clint didn’t have time for niceties right now. “Bucky!”

He reached out for the coffin, intending to open it.

“Stop!” shouted Wanda, and he turned to see that she and Bruce had followed Bucky down. “Don’t touch it! Can’t you see the sigils? It’s a portal to death.”

Bucky was only a few steps away now, and his face was screwed up with anguish. “Clint,” he said, miserably.

“I’ll solve this,” Clint said to him, edging around the other side of the coffin to put more distance between them. He didn’t know if shadowghasts always moved so slowly, or if Bucky was doing all he could to give Clint all the time he could, but Clint wasn’t going to waste it.

Clint looked back at the sigils, which meant very little to him, and then at the pale face of Bucky inside the coffin. His eyes were shut and it was a weird jolt not to be able to see through him. That was Bucky’s body, who he really was. If Clint had all the time in the world, a few thick books about necromancy rituals, and probably a couple of clever people helping him, he’d be able to pull Bucky out of this spell and bring him back to life.

He didn’t have any of those things. Fuck, what was he going to do?

“Bucky, come on,” he said to the motionless body. Fuck, he wasn’t even breathing. For all intents and purposes, he looked dead. “Wake up.”

“I can’t,” said Bucky, stepping through the ring of candles. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? Clint, I’ve tried everything. I can't fight it.” He sounded as if he were crying now, as Clint turned towards him. Fuck, he wasn’t going to fix this. He was going to be killed by the guy he’d been trying to rescue all this time, and his bones would end up being just another thing tying Bucky to death.

“Clint!” hissed Natasha. “Surely you had more of a plan than this?”

Clint ignored her as Bucky reached out a pale hand, his nails elongating into black talons. “I’m so sorry,” he said, ghostly tears running down his cheeks as his hand sank into Clint’s chest.

It burnt like an icicle, freezing his lungs and making him gasp for air even before he felt Bucky’s fingers clasp around his heart. God, it hurt so badly, and all Clint could do was stare into the dark pits of Bucky’s eyes, at the tears running down his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he was repeating as Clint gasped for air.

Behind him, Clint could see Pierce watching, smug grin firmly in place, and the mirror still in his hand.

The mirror.

Clint darted his eyes left, to the full-length mirror. If Pierce was using it to control Bucky, then maybe…

Doors opened both ways, right?

He didn’t have time to second guess himself. He could feel his heart stuttering, freezing up in his chest as Bucky choked the life out of it. He collapsed down, letting his legs sag under him, and Bucky followed him down, keeping his hand clenched tight in Clint’s chest. Clint was gasping for breath that his lungs couldn’t process as he fumbled a weak hand in the pile of bones, grabbing the first one to hand and then, with all his remaining desperate strength, sent it flying at the mirror.

The mirror shattered with an impressively dramatic crash, glass cracking into shards and showering to the ground. Bucky pulled in a sudden, hoarse breath, then pulled his hand out of Clint’s chest and stepped back, the darkness around his eyes fading away.

Clint pressed his hands to his chest and desperately tried to pull in air, feeling his heart stuttering before it found a rhythm again. Fuck, that had been close.

“I’m free,” said Bucky, and he turned towards Pierce. “I’m free,” he repeated in a darker tone.

Pierce stared at him, then turned on his heel to run and met Bruce’s fist coming the other way. He dropped to the ground, unconscious, and the mirror went flying from his hand.

Bucky strode over to it, looking down at the black surface. “I’m free,” he repeated and stepped down into it, his spirit funneling down and through the mirror until he’d disappeared.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked Clint, and he nodded impatiently, staggering to his feet and nearly falling down again until she caught his arm and held him up.

Clint stared into the coffin, at Bucky’s pale, deathlike face. “Wake up,” he said. “Please, Bucky. Wake up. You can’t have just died on me, you owe me a kiss, you’ve got to wake-”

Bucky’s eyes flew open and it was enough of a surprise for Clint to jolt backwards. “Oh fuck,” he breathed, feeling a grin spread across his face. “Bucky!”

Bucky stared at him, just blinking for a few seconds, then his hands clenched and released, and he smiled.

Holy fuck, his eyes were such a beautiful blue. Clint hadn’t realised when he’d been a washed-out ghost.

“I’m free,” said Bucky, barely audible behind the glass, then he reached out a hand and touched the coffin with the tips of his fingers. The sigils all sparked silver and Clint stepped back out of the way to avoid the shower of magic, then they dimmed, turning dark. Bucky grinned at Clint, then pushed harder at the lid of the coffin, and it swung open, sending bones scattering across the floor.

“You freed me,” he said, softly.

Clint shook his head. “Feels like you freed yourself.”

Bucky shook his head, shifting his weight as he prepared to step out of the coffin, over the heap of bones. “No, you broke the-”

He was cut off by the sharp crack of apparation, and a blond boy in a Gryffindor uniform appeared, then fell to his knees. “Oh fuck,” he muttered, then looked up. “Bucky?”

Bucky stared at him. “Steve?!”

Steve looked around, clearly taking in the crypt, the pile of bones and the unconscious man on the floor. He pulled his wand out. “What the fuck are you guys doing to him?” he said, aiming the wand at Clint.

“Put it away,” said Bucky, reaching out to take Clint’s hand. Fuck, feeling his actual, flesh-and-bone body, warm skin against Clint’s, was the most amazing thing Clint had ever felt. “They’re rescuing me.” He stepped out of the coffin, over the pile of bones, using Clint’s hand to steady himself

“Oh,” said Steve, and looked around again. “From what? What the fuck is all this?”

“It’s a necromantic ritual,” said Natasha. “What does it look like?”

“Wait, you’re Steve Rogers?” asked Bruce.

Steve frowned at him. “That’s me.”

“Right,” said Bruce, glancing helplessly at Wanda, who just shrugged back. “And how did you get here?”

“I apparated,” said Steve.

Before they could all get their heads around that, an arctic fox patronus flew down the stairs. “What the fuck are you guys doing? We need to get moving!” it said with Tony’s voice. “You’ve got thirty seconds, then we’re all apparating away.”

“Come on,” said Natasha, glancing at Clint, who couldn’t keep from squeezing Bucky’s hand every few seconds, just to make sure he was really there. From the way Bucky kept glancing at him, he didn’t mind. “If anyone got an alarm out, the rest of Hydra will be here soon.” She glanced at Pierce’s unconscious body.

“I’ll bring him,” said Bruce, bending down and throwing him over his shoulder. “Hopefully he’ll be in Azkaban before he wakes up.”

“I can always punch him next time, if he needs knocking out again,” said Bucky.

“Seriously,” said Steve, “Bucky, what’s happening? Who are Hydra? Is that Alex Pierce’s dad?”

“Steve, it’s going to take a long time to explain,” said Bucky. “And you’ve got some explaining to do as well, seriously. ‘I apparated’? What the fuck, punk?”

“There’s no time,” said Natasha, glancing up the stairs where footsteps could be heard. “Steve, take my hand, we’re apparating out of here.”

“Rendezvous point three,” Clint said to her and she nodded as Steve took her hand. A moment later they’d disappeared. 

Clint met Wanda’s eyes and saw her also apparating and a moment later Bruce and Pierce were gone as well. Clint took a deep breath and focused on apparating both himself and Bucky to the rendezvous spot without splinching them just because he was too distracted by having got Bucky _free_ , holy fuck. Somehow, he’d never quite believed it would actually happen.

Tony’s team were waiting for them in the small wood outside Nottingham where they’d arranged to meet.

“What the fuck took so long?” asked Tony, then nodded at Bucky. “Hey man, glad you could join us, can we- wait, is that Pierce?”

“Yup,” said Bruce, swinging Pierce’s body off his shoulders and dumping him, not too lightly, on the ground. “Things got a bit more complicated than expected.”

“So I see,” said Tony, staring as Natasha and Steve walked over. “Holy shit, is that Steve Rogers? _The_ Steve Rogers??”

“Should I know you?” asked Steve, frowning at him.

Tony just gaped at him, then turned to Clint. “What the fuck?”

Clint shrugged. “No idea,” he said. “He just appeared. Said he apparated.”

Tony stared at Steve for a long time, looking over his Hogwarts uniform, then looked back at Clint. “Apparated from when?”

“What?” said Steve. “What do you mean?”

Tony looked hopelessly at him for a moment, then back at Clint, who just shrugged at him.

Now that Clint had Bucky beside him and holding his hand, and Pierce was going to face justice, Clint was a hundred percent done with being the Avenger’s leader. His goals were accomplished, someone else could take over and answer the difficult questions, like what the fuck to do with Steve. He was just going to bask in his success for a bit.

“Bucky, what the hell is going on?” asked Steve. “What happened to you?”

Bucky looked at him for a long, tired moment. “It’s 2020,” he said, maybe not as gently as Clint would have. “You’ve somehow managed to apparate forward in time nearly eighty years. That’s not Alex Pierce’s dad, that’s Alex Pierce himself. He was keeping me at the centre of a necromantic ritual that made me his pet ghost assassin.” Steve’s face was going very pale as he stared at Bucky, then at Pierce’s unconscious body.

“Eighty years,” repeated Steve, with shock. “No, no way.”

“You said you apparated,” said Natasha. “But you wouldn’t have known about the crypt. What visualisation did you use?”

“I…” said Steve, then winced. “Howard had an idea,” he said slowly.

Bucky groaned. “Oh shit, you tried out one of Howard’s crazy experimental spells?”

Tony stared at them both. “Howard Stark?” he said, carefully.

Steve glanced at him. “Yeah, do you know him?”

Tony gave him a sardonic smile. “He was my father.”

Steve stared, his eyes darting over Tony’s face, then down over his body. “Oh shit,” he said. “This is...seriously? That crazy fucker had a kid?”

“Yup,” said Tony. “And if you were being one of his guinea pigs, I’m not surprised you ended up years off-course.”

Steve looked back at Bucky. “I don’t think I was off-course,” he said softly. “You just disappeared, Buck. No one could find you, but I knew you had to be somewhere, that you weren’t dead like they kept saying. Howard worked out this new way to apparate, where you focus on a person or thing rather than a place, so I focused on you, and how I knew you were alive and well.”

“Huh,” said Natasha. “And the spell brought you to the exact moment when Bucky was alive and well again, after eighty years of being essentially dead. So the spell worked.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, that’s how a lot of Dad’s spells went. They technically worked, but the way they got there was usually more of a problem than whatever you were trying to fix.”

“Essentially dead,” Steve repeated, looking at Bucky with a stricken look. “Oh god. Bucky.” He strode forward and Bucky dropped Clint’s hand to catch his hug. Clint took a careful step away, watching how Bucky was clinging on just as tightly in return.

“Fuck, it’s good to see you again, Stevie,” Bucky murmured. “Thought you must have been dead and gone years ago.”

“Nah, you know me. Like a cockroach, remember,” said Steve. He pulled away and gave Bucky a weak smile. “This is gonna take some getting used to, though.”

“Yeah,” agreed Bucky. The moment he was clear of Steve’s hug, he reached for Clint’s hand again, and Clint felt his heart begin to glow with happiness as he took it.

Steve eyed their hands, then looked around at the others. “Okay, other than Howard’s son, who are you guys?”

“We’re the Avengers,” said Natasha with the same dry tone she always used for the name. Fuck, Clint had missed that.

“And we finally managed to avenge some shit,” added Scott. “Yay!” He looked down at Pierce’s body. “We’ve been trying to take down that arsehole for three years.”

“And rescue Bucky,” added Clint, looking at Bucky and smiling at how solid and alive he was.

Bucky smiled back, then turned back to Steve and cleared his throat. “This is Clint,” he said, holding up their joined hands. “I’m kinda hoping he’s going to be my boyfriend.”

“Definitely,” said Clint. “I will definitely be your boyfriend.”

Bucky looked at him with a smile that just lit his face up, and Clint grinned back, feeling dizzy with success. He couldn’t believe that after three years of sneaking around, working underground against a foe that had entrenched itself in every layer of wizarding society for decades, he’d finally got himself a boyfriend like he’d wanted.

“Okay,” said Steve. “Uh, congratulations, I guess. I didn’t know a boyfriend was something you were into.”

Bucky just shrugged at him. “A lot’s changed in eighty years.”

Steve’s face fell at the reminder. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “Fuck, _eighty years_. There must be a way to get back.” He frowned. “I can do the apparation spell again, but focus on something in Hogwarts back then instead? We could both go home, Bucky.”

Clint felt cold sink into his stomach and he glanced at Bucky, clenching his jaw to stop himself from telling Bucky to stay. His friends were all back there, after all, his family. His life.

Bucky considered for a moment, then looked at Clint. “Nah,” he said. “I reckon I’ll stay here. I’ve already gone through those years, I don’t much fancy doing it again. Besides, I just got a boyfriend, I want to see where that’s going.”

Clint let relief wash over him and he grinned at him.

“Plus it might irrevocably destroy the timeline,” said Wanda. “Bucky going missing is a big enough event for a lot of subsequent events to be built on it.”

“And your disappearance as well,” Natasha added to Steve. “If you go back, a lot of things could change, and we don’t know how.”

“Right,” said Steve quietly. “It’s just, I’ve got a date for the Yule Ball.”

“Peggy Carter said yes?” asked Bucky. “Oh, hey good for you! I told you she liked you.”

Steve stared at him, then shrugged. “Yeah,” he said and looked back at his wand.

“Don’t make any decisions immediately,” said Tony. “Let me have a look at the spell. There’s a chance it will just send you careering off somewhere even further from where you want to be.”

Steve sighed and tucked his wand away. “Probably,” he agreed. “Fuck, I should have known not to trust Howard.” He glanced at Tony and winced. “Sorry.”

Tony shrugged. “No, you’re right,” he said. “Howard wasn’t the most trustworthy guy.”

“Guys, this can wait until later,” said Bruce. “Let’s get Pierce to the Aurors before he wakes up.”

Sam nodded. “We’ve got all the evidence ready to go with him, let’s get this finished.”

Steve’s head perked up and he looked over at the unconscious form of Pierce. “He was the one who had Bucky?”

“Yep,” said Bruce, bending to pick Pierce up again. “Don’t worry, we’ve got all we need to lock the bastard up.”

“Oh,” said Steve, and something in his shoulders slumped again.

Natasha gave him one of her too-knowing looks. “He has a large network of underlings, infiltrated into every part of Wizarding society,” she said. “We still need to hunt down every last one of them and make sure they get what they deserve.”

Steve’s spine straightened. “I’m hoping you’ll let me help with that.”

“Of course,” she said, and for a moment they exchanged matching looks of determined resolution.

“Sounds great,” said Clint, squeezing Bucky’s hand. It seemed like maybe Steve wasn’t going to be so out of place here after all, if he was as into taking down terrorist networks as the rest of them were. “Shall we head to the Ministry?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Actually, there’s something I kinda want to do before we go heading off again,” he said. “Something I’ve been thinking about for years.”

Clint wasn’t about to deny him anything right now, not now he was finally free. “Go for it,” he said. “The world’s your oyster now, baby.”

Bucky turned to him with a smile, setting the hand that wasn’t still holding Clint’s on his shoulder. “Thanks to you,” he said, then leaned in and kissed Clint, clinging tighter to his hand as his lips pressed against Clint’s, solid and warm and _real_ , a thousand times better than their last kiss had been.

Clint let out a tiny sigh, then moved into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Bucky to pull him in close, feeling their bodies pressed together. His mind was filled with nothing but bright astonishment that this was actually happening, that he’d finally managed to get this with Bucky after all those years pining for a ghost, and then three more long ones chasing down Pierce so he could rescue him.

Bucky pulled away and smiled at him, resting his forehead against Clint’s as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go of their physical connection just yet. After eighty years of not being able to touch anyone, he probably needed it. Clint thought about getting to just hold him, both of them cuddled together for as long as it took for Bucky to start feeling better, and couldn’t stop his grin widening.

“Hey, boyfriend,” he said, very softly.

Bucky grinned back, running the backs of his fingers gently over Clint’s cheek. “Hey,” he said. “I think I’m ready to start living.”


End file.
